


All it takes

by SilenyFade



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Die for the cause, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gift Fic, Mass Effect 3, No Dialogue, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenyFade/pseuds/SilenyFade
Summary: Sometimes it's just too much, and you break. Its best when someone was there to catch you. Sometimes thats all it takes it keep the smallest flames of hope alive. To keep each other going to continue the fight for survival. For the future.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15
Collections: MEFFW Secret Santa Exchange 2019





	All it takes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RPGwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RPGwrites/gifts).



> Happy Holidays!!! This is a gift to RPGWarrior4824. Im not the best at battles or with major character death but I tried! Hope you like it!

It was routine now. The terror, the spray of bullets and of blood when they hit. The cold feeling that took over her as she pushed her way deeper into throngs of mutilated and mutated bodies that the Reapers sent at her. Bodies of ones that they infected before she could even get there to save.

Turian, Asari, Salarian, Vorcha, Krogan, any and all creatures from across their galaxy infected just to be used as cannon fodder and an army against the struggling of their previous races. Against their fight for survival.

Shepard knew she had to keep going, knew she had to keep reloading and pulling the trigger of her favored gun. Unloading clip by clip into on coming forces. Because it was routine now.

She forced herself to stop feeling the revulsion and the heartache while on the field. To stop the feeling of horror as she pushed her omni-blade through an enemies throat, the black tar like blood making tiny splattering noises against her helmet as it’s throat was surgically sliced open, being overwhelmed by the chaos around her. Forced herself to keep her hold as the body in front of her jerked with each dull thud as its comrades bullets burried themselves into its flesh as she used it as a shield until she could get back to cover. To what she could barely call cover.

They would sweep in, guns blazing, dropping from the Normandy, fight like it was their last moments to get to some obscure objective that didn’t really seem to matter. Because it was their last moments. Or at least it could be. It was all to further the cause though. Save a handful here, please some scrounging politicians, get a minuscule amount of help or resources back there. The lives of her crew, her family, tossed around like a means to an end.

It was only in the briefest of moments between drops that any consolation, any peace was found. It was only when she basically crawled her way into her cabin, still armoured and covered in gore, to sit in the shower that she allowed herself to breathe. To break from the cold hard Commander Shepard that everyone saw into the terrified, broken and hollow woman she really was. The one that had just a little too much placed on her thin already over burdened shoulders.

It was as the blistering water pounded down on her, trailing swirls of blood of both friend and foe that he came. Stripped of his own gear and undersuit he would kneel by her curled form in the corner of the shower. He would help her peel off the layers, the gore on them ignored for now, and placed gently to the side until she too was naked to the spray.

He would then nestle her between his knees as he leaned back against the wall and hold her as the dam inside shattered. Hold her as she cried in anguish for each life she took, watch the world she couldn’t save. Held her as her body shook with grief over each crew member lost. And there were so many now. Kaidan, Miranda, Mordin, Kelly, Thane, Legion. Her crew, her family picked off because some omnipresent force thought it would be fun to fuck with her.

As her tears mixed with the scorching water she would hold him back as his own dam burst. Through the grief filled keening for his family, for his burning world, for their burning galaxy. For the future they didn’t know they, or the galaxy would survive to see.

They would build each other back up. With whispers of shared hope and grief. With words of courage and soft touches that wiped away the gore of the last battle. Take comfort in the feeling of the other as they lay side by side skin cooling as sleep struck them. But it never lasted long.

Sometimes she would wake him, and sometimes it was he who woke her. One, the other or both reeling from the horrors that plagued not only their waking moments but the small briefest periods of rest they got. And it was gone. The small bit of peace they had found wiped away. She would get up, pulling on something and go wash her neglected armour. He would get up also pulling something on over his skin to fill out yet another useless status or mission report to whatever higher up still alive.

Both would go over awaiting missions. Weighing each option, each resource. Could they survive it? Did they need the pay out? Was the drop truly worth it or did they let those souls perish in hopes of saving thousands more? Then the calls would begin. The calls for help, for aid. The demands for her time from this person or that who believed that their concerns, their mission was of more importance than others. And they would wade through them together.

Then cold would come settling over her features and his face would harden as the responsibility settled over them both. Piece by piece their armour was put back on. Both those that protected their bodies and the ones that protected their minds. They would descend from her, truly their, cabin to the war room. Not as a pair of broken souls trying to find purchase amongst horror and sadness but as Commander Shepard and Reaper Advisor Vakarian.

None of their fear, their uncertainty would lace their voices or steps. Because it couldn’t and they wouldn’t let it. Because they had each other to rely on and a galaxy to pull from the ashes of Tartarus. They would do anything for the cause because Spirits knew they needed every advantage. And their fearless leaders, the ones who not only planned, organized, prepped for each battle lead them in. Spear heading each run.  


Because that was who they were. And it would begin again. The screams of the dying both new and old that lingered in their minds mixing together into a foul howling wind that followed them wherever they went. Followed into each battle. The cycle would continue because that was war. And it wouldn’t end until one side won. And they would try their damned hardest to make sure it would be their side that won. No matter the cost.


End file.
